nonsense

The Cucking

there was a little cuckoo
who cucked but couldn’t koo
so went asking all the other birds
just what he could do

the rook lent him a  roaring craw
the owl a twit to woo
a goose honked in longing tones
but nobody had the koo

so he left his woodland home
and went to Liverpool
and joined a group of pigeons
who thought his cuck was coooooool

The Worst Verse

I wrote this poem backwards
to see where it would start
if its seed was in my head
or it grew in my heart
and then I turned it inside out
the surest rhymes to find
decided it could do without
a certain measured time
but after all I set a fire
and in it through my verse
thinking that cast to the flames
it couldn’t get much worse
therefore I started up again
and forwards did compose
thus these simple lines appeared
to bring me to a close.

You Can’t See The Wood

today we’ll plant a million trees
but cut two million down
and those that fall we do not see
so they don’t make a sound
it doesn’t matter what we grow
be it cedar, pine or oak
as they in time will likely go
and thus the world will choke
but still we’ll plant a million trees
two million to replace
for this is part of the disease
we call the human race.

Fat Sparrows

the fattest sparrows I have seen
live in Central Park
hedged among the evergreens
from whence they disembark
to feast upon the morsels spurned
by diners on the go
their taste buds now quite discerned
to Subways and Quiznos.
Tribes of chubby little braves
wait next to rubbish bins
attentive to the passing trade
of what may be found within
watching lovers promenade
their bagels hand in hand
and doughnuts do they serenade
this full thick feathered band.
Upper East Side dowagers
are courted for the fayre
the gilded stately benefactors
out to take the air
may stop and throw the sweetest crumbs
thinking it such a lark
to feed the sparrows with expanding tums
that live in Central Park

Jack

there is a hedgehog in the yard
I’ve called him spikey Jack
I thought he was a tourist
but he keeps on coming back
to snuffle through the moonlight
on these chilly winter nights
I’d like to introduce myself
but I don’t know if he bites
I think he lives inside the leaves
below the maple tree
I hope one night he’s not to shy
to say hello to me
as I never met a hedgehog
let alone been friends
in that respect, I’ll leave for him
some milk out this weekend
perhaps then he will speak to me
if he can talk at all
or at least he’ll tip his hat
before rolling in a ball,
then I can say, I have a pal
and his name is spikey Jack
though he’s not like my other chums
as he’s got spines upon his back.